Get What You Give
by Diary
Summary: As he'd looked at the tent, the realisation: I'm eighteen, I've helped win a war, I can do whatever I like, had crossed his mind. Complete. Edited slightly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Finding his granddad's old tent in the wreckage of the house had given Neville the urge to go on a camping trip.

He knew it wasn't proper.

The war had ended, and everyone was needed for rebuilding. There was so much that needed to be done. Gran needed help moving them in with her mate and with rebuilding their home. There were parts of Hogwarts that hadn't fixed itself, there were funerals to attend, people to find, and Xenophilius Lovegood was still in Azkaban. His surviving plants needed looking after.

As he'd looked at the tent, the realisation: _I'm eighteen, I've helped win a war, I can do whatever I like_, had crossed his mind.

Gran had been furious when he'd told her, but he hadn't stuck around to listen. He'd packed the tent, a chamber pot and toilet paper, and some clothes in a suitcase, went to a camping shop to get some more stuff, and then, flown on his broom to a nearby forest.

Now, looking up at the sky, he feels incredible guilt.

He's always felt guilty about everything, even when he knew for sure he shouldn't. The worst part is his guilt over hating the Lestranges and Crouch. When he was little, he'd tried to think up excuses for them, for what they did. He went as far as to try to think of the positive side to what was done, which only worsened the guilt. When he got older, he hated himself tor not hating them enough.

His grandmother's closest friend, aside Professor McGonagall, is a goblin named Bornuk. He once said Neville had guilt woven into his soul, explaining some souls aren't well-equipped for the world. Some are sensitive to pain, have a tendency to draw it to them, and often, they take on the blame for the evils done so that others won't have to. When Neville had expressed his opinion people ought to be responsible for their own actions, Bornuk had something about love sometimes meaning a person will do the ones they love a disservice by protecting them too much.

Neville's never protected the ones who hurt his parents, and he's never loved them.

Now, more than ever, he knows he needs to stop being protected. All his life, whenever he broke the big rules, it was always for the right thing. He hardly ever broke the little ones.

Some part of him has always resented Gran, even as he complied with whatever she wanted. It's been the same for his professors and classmates.

The problem is, he doesn't know how to break free, how to start being on his own, how to keep himself from running back the first time he metaphorically falls.

"Longbottom? What are you doing here?"

Sighing, Neville resists the urge to close his eyes and pretend this is his imagination torturing him. Instead, he grabs his wand and slowly sits up. "Didn't take long for you to be released," he comments, bitterly. "Just you, or is all of your family free?"

Coming into view, Draco Malfoy looks at him with cold eyes. A compass is dangling from his right hand, and he has a sleeping bag under his left arm. Neville sets his wand down up keeps his palm on the ground, near it. "My father's still being detained."

"Same as you and your mum deserve," he snaps.

A shrug is Malfoy's response.

Feeling the anger drain, Neville says, "I'm not going to let you ruin my trip. Just tell me where your site is, and I'll stay away. You do the same, and you won't end up right back with your father."

Neville is rarely sure of anything, but he knows what will come next. Something about how Malfoy would like to see him try, and how his father will back home soon.

"I haven't found a site, yet, but be assured, I'll make sure I choose an area far away from here."

He starts to walk away, and utterly confused, feeling a sense of uneasy betrayal, Neville jumps up. "You don't have a tent with you."

"And," Malfoy inquires, turning.

And Neville doesn't take well to the few things he's truly certain of not coming through.

"What kind of person goes camping without a tent?"

"A person whose account is frozen," Malfoy answers.

"The ministry can't-"

"The ministry does it all the time when a person's put under house-arrest," Malfoy interrupts. "My mother and I are free to leave, but people are afraid we'll use the Malfoy fortune to break Father out. Food is delivered to the manor, and we're allowed to withdraw small sums if we can justify it. I doubt an enchanted tent would be approved. We had one, but Auntie Bellatrix was using it. I don't know where she left it."

Frankly, Neville doesn't think Malfoy has any right to the sarcastic, bitter tone he uses to describe his dead aunt. If their side had won, it'd've only been a matter of time before Malfoy, already so cruel, had graduated to her level of sadism. She was gleeful and loud, unrepentant, and Neville would take her over the cold, silent Malfoys who make clear their belief in how just and civilised they are. Bellatrix might have truly believed in blood purity, believed she was fighting for the right side, but he appreciated the fact she seemed to know she was a twisted, mean person and relished in it.

"You can't just sleep in a sleeping bag."

"It's enchanted to adjust to a person's body temperature."

"And what about food and using the toilet? Well, okay, you can probably do that part without anything, but-"

"Exactly what goody-goody, annoying part of you believes this is your concern?"

"If you die, it'll be just my luck someone will find out I had contact with you shortly before," Neville answers. "Whether you believe I can hurt you or not, other people do, and I have more reason than most to do so."

Malfoy scoffs. "Poor Mummy and Daddy. Funny how I don't see you holding a grudge against Dumbledore for failing to protect them. Or the Potters. They wanted him, you realise, don't you? The Boy-Who-Lived. My parents would have given up a thousand pureblood babies before they left me all alone."

"My parents don't have anything to do with me wanting you dead," Neville answers. Among the things he'll never forgive himself for is the unwanted anger at Harry and his parents. He's thought it before, wondered why Harry was so special, why they loved him more than him.

"I couldn't care less about your opinion of me."

"I hope I can say the same someday," Neville answers. "If you want to catch your death, I won't stop you. But because I don't want to feel guilty for it, if you need to, you can sleep on my couch until Monday. The loo's been sealed since before my granddad bought it, but you can use the chamber pot."

Malfoy looks at him for a long moment. "What do you mean, 'I hope I can say the same someday?'"

"It's pretty self-explanatory, innit?"

"No," Malfoy answers, "it isn't."

"Stay or go, Malfoy."

Thankfully, Malfoy does.

…

Neville wakes up to the sound howl of wolves.

Cursing, he grabs his wand and goes outside, casting a patronus and recording, "Malfoy, sorry to bother you, but I hear wolves. If you can, respond."

After some time of walking, wondering if he should try to contact someone he knows to come help, he realises he just walked right past a wolf. Freezing, he carefully turns around, wand pointed.

The gray-eyed wolf stares back.

"You're a werewolf," Neville realises, aloud, briefly looking up at the full moon.

The werewolf hunches down, head on its -his or her, he reminds himself- paws.

"Good, you can understand," he says, lowering his wand. "Look, mate, I won't hurt you. My name is Neville Longbottom. Er, have you seen a blond boy around here? Have either of you hurt the other? I wouldn't blame you; he probably gave you a good reason if you did, but I need to know."

Shaking its -his or her- head, the werewolf looks at him with curiosity and fear.

"Right, well, if you do," Neville says, sighing, "avoid him. I don't know if you're from around here or not, but he's Draco Malfoy. He might've taken the Dark Mark, and his dad and mum were the biggest supporters of Voldemort."

The wolf -person, his mind snaps- flinches.

"Sorry," Neville apologises. "I keep forgetting a lot of people are still uneasy about hearing his name. But anyway, he's not the type the type to treat a werewolf, one who's all there, with respect."

His patronus appears, repeating the message he sent.

"Git," Neville mutters, vanishing the patronus, knowing this means Malfoy deliberately sent it back, unanswered. "Er, are you the only one around?"

The werewolf nods.

"It's just, are you sure? As much as I hate Malfoy, I don't want him hurt."

Shifting, letting Neville see he's talking to another male, the werewolf nods.

Noticing the werewolf is shivering, he asks, "Would you like to kip with me? I have an enchanted tent and some rations."

Tilting his head, the werewolf studies him.

"Have you heard of Remus Lupin?"

At his interested nod, Neville says, "He was my teacher in third year, and we fought together during the war. One of my friends is godfather to his son. I know how badly werewolves are treated, and I know how wrong it is."

Surprising him, the werewolf sticks out his left paw.

Smiling, Neville shakes it. "Is that a yes?"

A nod is his response.

…

"I can take the couch," Neville tells him as they enter.

Shaking his head, the werewolf goes over to the fireplace and looks at him expectantly.

"Are you sure?"

His new friend nods.

Neville starts a fire. "Er, I'm not taking the mickey, but if you'd like, I can fix you a bowl of something to drink."

After the werewolf chooses the canned tea Neville brought along, Neville gets his extra pillow and blankets out, lying them near the fire. "Well," he says, "I'm going to turn in. Is there anything else before I do?"

Shaking his head, the werewolf settles down in front of the fireplace, stretching out.

…

In the morning, the werewolf's gone, the fire put out, the bowl washed and put back in place.

Outside, he finds Malfoy sitting on a tree branch and munching on a green apple, a sight that fills him with familiar dread. "Thought we agreed to stay away from one another."

"Did you send me a patronus last night? I was rather drunk, but I think you said something about a howling wolf?"

"Yeah, I did," he answers, rolling his eyes. "I had a guest last night. Did you do something to run them off?"

"Was it the moon girl," Malfoy asks with glee. "Don't tell me you're so pathetic you'd actually take a girl to the middle of the woods instead of renting a room or moving out of grandmummy's house."

"Moon girl?" Then, realising what who Malfoy's talking about, he makes a face. "No, it wasn't Luna. Last I checked, she was in the same situation as you, her dad in Azkaban," he says, guilt returning full-force. Luna doesn't have many friends, and as one of them, he should be helping her out instead of camping.

"Look, Malfoy, it would have been a boy or man. I don't know how old he was, but if you've hurt him-"

"I haven't come across anyone but you, Longbottom. I came to see what your patronus was about."

Taking a breath, Neville says, "There's a werewolf around here. Or there was. He was under control. Don't go looking for him, Malfoy."

"I'm not a bleeding heart. Under control or not, they're dangerous, disgusting beasts. I wouldn't willingly go near one. If you come across your guest, tell him to stay away from me."

"Already have."

"A great many death eaters and those loyal to the Dark Lord were turned during the war; more than your side," Malfoy says. "How do you know he wasn't one of them?"

"I've still alive and uninfected," Neville answers. "I reckon that's two strikes against that idea? Anyway, it doesn't matter. If he's wanted or hurts someone, he'll be caught soon enough."

"I'm surprised at you abandoning all your little friends."

Unable to help himself, Neville flinches.

Then, he takes a breath and forces himself to laugh. "You're one to talk; your family's got switching sides down to an art."

Malfoy simply looks at him.

"Are you going to leave, or do I need to?"

"Not much fight left in you," Malfoy retorts, sliding down. "I'll go. See how loyal Potter and the others are once you have to chug down wolfsbane every month just to keep from killing them."

"They wouldn't kill me or force me to try to find some werewolf colony. What would your parents do if you were infected? What if one of them was? Name burned off the tapestry, for sure. Or maybe not. In Carrow's class, one of your ancestor's names came up. Sixteen-year-old girl, she was infected, and she did the honourable thing and killed herself before the first full moon came. Her name stayed, she was buried in the family graveyard, and your family used it as an excuse to wipe out six werewolf colonies before someone finally put a stop to it."

"It is the honourable thing," Malfoy answers. "Muggle-borns, half-bloods, muggles, other Beings and some beasts, they can all think. They can control themselves. Wolfsbane is difficult to brew and store. Without it or a secure lock, who they are for the majority of the time doesn't matter; for three or four nights a month, they kill indiscriminately. They infect the ones they don't. There's always a chance the potion wasn't made properly or the locks and enchantments won't hold. People like you think it's horrible someone would rather kill themselves than accept tainted blood; I've always imagined she didn't want to become a murderer."

Before Neville can respond, Malfoy continues, "I don't know what I'd do if one of my parents were bitten. As for me, though? I'd brew some wolfsbane, see what it's like to be a werewolf, and before the new full moon came, I'd do what she did."

All Neville can do is look at him.

"No response, Longbottom?"

"No," Neville answers. "Just- I'm sorry for your mum. She lied to Voldemort's face, she was willing to leave your dad behind at Hogwarts, she had Snape make an unbreakable vow. All for you. I reckon, when it comes down to it, I can't imagine she'd reject you, even if something like that happened. And you'd break her heart."

That causes a flinch. "Don't speak of things you don't understand, Longbottom."

He doesn't answer, and Malfoy leaves.

Sighing, Neville begins exploring the plant life.

…

By the afternoon, he's looking mournfully at the splattered remains of the beans he'd tried to heat up for lunch.

Luckily, he'd managed to find some non-poisonous berries and edible leafs.

"All your time with Aberforth Dumbledore didn't teach you any culinary skills?"

Looking up, Neville answers, "No."

"Share your food, and I'll fix it."

Soon enough, Malfoy's cooked up some admittedly delicious sausages and heated up another can of beans.

"With your house-elves, how is it you can cook?"

"Dobby was our only one," Malfoy answers. "Pansy dragged me to a cooking class one summer."

They eat in silence until Malfoy says, "Your house was destroyed, everyone's trying to rebuild, and you're camping."

"You have no tent, and your dad's in Azkaban."

Malfoy sighs. "I could kill you, and no one would know."

"You could try," Neville counters. "I've taken on death eaters worse than you, and I'm still standing."

"Brave now, are we?"

"I've always been braver than you, Malfoy. I used to be terrified of you, but it never stopped me from doing the right thing. For so long, I never believed I was worth ten of you, but look where we are now. I'm a better man than you'll ever be."

"Society agrees," Malfoy answers, neutrally. "For all that, you're still the same. You lost your stutter and became competent at magic, but inside, you're still the lonely little boy who feels guilty about everything. You'll go through life clinging to people willing to coddle you. It's pathetic."

There's no answer for that.

"I wonder if your parents would be glad they made the sacrifice for Potter."

Taking a deep breath, Neville answers, "You're not going to turn me against him or them, Malfoy. Even if I hated Harry, I'd still be dead proud of them. Say they helped find him and your aunt and uncle and Crouch didn't kill them. They were able to live safely under Voldemort, raising me. It wouldn't change the fact they'd given up an innocent baby."

"And because you can't bring yourself to hate him, you love him."

"I love Harry," he confirms, adding, "and I'm not sure that you don't, too."

"Please, elaborate on this ridiculous assertion."

"I was there when he jumped out of Hagrid's arms; I heard you call, 'Potter,' and I saw you running. In first year, you wanted to be his friend, and let's face it, there were bigger targets than me you could have picked on. You picked on me, the Weasleys, and Hermione because we were the closest to him."

"Well, as interesting as this has been, I've been exposed to your company for too long."

"Take what you want of the food."

After Malfoy leaves, Neville begins to plant a garden, trying to tell himself not to dwell on the words.

A guilty soul; he doesn't believe in past lives, but some part can't help but be afraid he once did something terrible. More than that, he doesn't want to keep clinging to people. During the last year of the war, there was no time for insecurities, but now, he's still him. War hero or not, he still feels too much like he's always felt.

…

"Hey, mate," Neville greets the werewolf that night, reaching over to shake his paw. "I have some sausage and edible leafs to offer you. What do want to drink?"

After they finish eating, the werewolf sighs.

"Rough time?"

His friend nods.

"Well, I don't have it near as bad, but I understand," Neville says. "Anything I can do?"

A head shake is his answer.

"Sorry."

The werewolf nudges a package of seeds, looking at him questioningly.

"Banana Roses," Neville explains. "Provided they have sun and occasional rain, they're self-caring. I'm a herbologist. Or I would be if I had a license."

At the werewolf's urging motion, he says, "Not much to it. I just haven't gotten time to get one, yet. Until recently, I've had Hogwarts and the war."

Accepting that, the werewolf stretches out, quickly falling asleep.

…

"Hey, Malfoy," Neville says, unsurprised to find the other man waiting for him.

After breakfast's been made, Malfoy asks, "Did your guest come back?"

"Yeah. Nice bloke," he answers. "Not that you'd understand."

"When you said, 'I hope I can say the same someday,' does that mean you care about my opinion?"

Neville sighs and rolls his eyes. "Malfoy, you bullied me for years. You wouldn't have had such an effect if I didn't. I care what everyone thinks, sometimes too much. But I don't care about changing your opinion; I never have. I wish I could put you and everyone else who only made me feel worse and more guilty completely out of my head. That's all."

"I made you feel guilty," Malfoy says, amused.

"I feel guilty about everything," Neville answers. "My gran's friend says I have guilt woven into my soul. Every bad thing I can remember doing, every time I remember being sharp with someone, all the times I broke a rule, even when it was the right thing or I didn't even know I was breaking one. So, don't think you did anything special."

"How do you live with yourself?"

"I just do, I reckon."

"I hate guilt."

"You and the rest of the world," Neville answers. "What do you know of it, though? You bully people, you wanted classmates dead, you might have even killed some of them, for all anyone knows. Tried to kill Dumbledore," he adds, sharply. "Harry talks about it like you couldn't go through with it because you knew it was wrong and couldn't do such a terrible thing; if you ask me, you were just afraid. What if Harry won? If you'd killed him, you'd still be with your dad, might be scheduled for the dementor's kiss."

"But if I killed myself, you'd still feel sorry for my mother. She's done worse than I have, you know."

"I try not to make it a habit of wishing people dead," Neville answers. "What's it matter, though? Haven't become a werewolf, have you?"

Malfoy scoffs. "I find your worldview interesting."

"I'm just a decent bloke," Neville answers. "I know what it's like to be willing to die for people, and so does your mum. I imagine you do, too. If you loved someone so much you were willing to give your life for theirs- Werewolves are treated so badly, by people, sometimes by their own family and the people who used to be their friends. If people would help, most of them could have a decent life. They could have jobs, families, all that; there are ways to keep them from hurting people during the full moon. I reckon it scares me to think that someone I love would kill themselves over it happening to them. And I may have wished death on your aunt and the others, but I decided a long time ago not to keep wishing for them to lose people they loved. I am sorry for the people who mourn their loss."

Sighing, Malfoy asks, "And you don't see any comparison between that and you carrying around so much guilt?"

"Sorry, Malfoy, I don't understand the question."

"How do you think your loved ones feel about you carrying around so much guilt?"

"It's not something I make a big deal out of," Neville answers, finishing his breakfast and summoning his seeds. "Stay around if you want, but I'm going to work on my garden."

"Planning on making this your permanent residence?"

"It's a self-sustaining garden."

"If they knew, though, how do you think they'd feel?"

"It wouldn't be my fault," Neville answers, unfortunately seeing Malfoy's point. "It's part of me, but I don't let it affect things."

"Personally, I agree, but the rebuttal would be: You have no idea what your potential is, what you could do, who you could be, if it weren't holding you back."

"Yeah, well, it's not something I can make go away. I've tried; it didn't work. Knowing I shouldn't feel guilty about something doesn't stop the feeling."

"How does one try not to feel guilty?"

"I've tried ignoring it, and er, well, I've gotten mad at myself, which only made it worse. I've tried to figure out why I feel guilty all the time, and aside from the times when I deserved to, I haven't figured it out."

"It doesn't sound like you've done much," Malfoy comments.

He decides the best response is to ignore that.

"You haven't talked to anyone, you haven't pinched yourself when the feelings came, you haven't tried baptism; all you've done is let yourself keep feeling this way."

"I don't believe in any gods."

Malfoy leans back against the tree. "It doesn't have to be about that. Water's the most powerful substance on Earth, something even muggles recognise. I've heard about people, no matter what they believed, drawing strength from it, helping overcome madness and letting go of guilt. I suppose water is inherently magical."

Neville remembers Bornuk once saying something similar, though he'd never suggested Neville try such a thing.

"Maybe," Malfoy continues, contemplatively, "you're nothing but a dirty coward."

"I'm not going to rise, Malfoy."

"You killed a snake and helped win a war. Now, look at Potter and the others and look at you. They're going on with their lives. You're still mostly the same. Scared, Longbottom?"

"And you're one to talk? You don't care about innocent lives. If you became a werewolf, you'd kill yourself, because you couldn't deal with being something you've always hated. I'm going to get a job, pay my taxes, and treat people properly. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm sure that's exactly what mummy and daddy wanted from you," Malfoy answers. "It doesn't matter if he's happy, ever has a girlfriend, or does anything important on his own. As long as he finds a job, pays the ministry, and can function in polite society, that's all we could ask for."

"Er, aside from your parents expecting you to help strengthen blood purity, isn't that mostly-"

"Look how well I turned out, Longbottom. I was plotting an assassination attempt at seventeen; my father's in prison; my mother and I are more-or-less living in poverty; and to top everything off, you're the only person I've found willing to talk to me. I'm sitting in the middle of nowhere talking to pathetic little Neville Longbottom. You and your grandmother will be back on your feet soon enough. You have people you could talk to if you weren't too scared, but instead, you're having a heart-to-heart with the person who tortured you for years."

"What about your mum and Parkinson?"

"My mother is busy trying to legally extract my father, and Pansy's parents have taken her far from the UK."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologise, Longbottom. This makes it easier."

"Easier to do what?"

"It doesn't matter," Malfoy answers, standing. "I'll come back tomorrow."

…

Later, Neville finds himself near a lake.

Sighing, he decides, aloud, "Might as well."

Stripping down to his underwear, he slips into the shallow part and takes a deep breath as his body adjusts to the coolness. "Alright," he says. "I've done some bad things, but I'm a decent person. And yeah, I'm still scared, but I reckon Malfoy has a point. It's time to see if I can have a real shot at happiness. I'm going to try to be a good person, but I know I'll make mistakes. But until I do, I want to let go of all the guilt."

Swimming out to the deeper end, he holds his nose, and then, dives under, staying underneath for a minute or two.

When he comes back up, he lets go of his nose and takes a deep breath, swimming back to the shore. As he gets out and dries off, getting dressed, he tries to figure out how he feels.

He doesn't feel empty, but he realises there's something missing. Mentally reaching for the guilt, all he feels is calm.

…

"Hey, mate," Neville says, shaking the werewolves paw. "Look," he says, as they settle, "after tomorrow, if you need help, just go to Diagon Alley and ask around for me. It won't take long for me show up. I don't know your story, but I do know most werewolves have hard lives. I don't know how much I can do, but I know some good people who can do loads."

Nodding, the werewolf reaches over and pats his leg.

…

On Tuesday morning, Neville finds a typed note.

_Neville Longbottom, _

_Thank you. You've saved my life. I plan to come back here during the full moon for the foreseeable future. If you can and don't object, I'd appreciate the company. _

Feeling incredible warmth spreading throughout him, Neville packs up.

…

When he gets to Bornuk's cave, he finds Luna Lovegood inside, playing a card game with his Snapping Ivy.

She looks up when she hears him.

"Hello, Neville," she greets, leaving the game and come over. "Oh, you look different. Have you recently unburdened your soul?"

"Yeah," he answers, reaching over to hug her, kissing her on the head as he does so. "Good to see you, Luna."

Taking his hand, she leads him over to the plant. "I hope you don't mind; your grandmother and Teller Bornuk insisted I say here while Dad's doing some business in Ireland."

"No, of course not," he says, feeling some guilt settle back in. "I'm sorry for not being here to help get him out. Is he okay?"

"You don't need to feel guilty," she answers. "It's nice to see you happier. Sometimes, people need to take time anyway from others so that they can figure out how to let go of all the bad. That's why I'm not with Dad right now. He's very conflicted about what happened during the war."

"Well, he's always welcome, too," Neville says. "How've you been?"

"Very well," she answers. "I finally figured out how to make nargles visible in photographs. Was your experience pleasant?"

"It was good and bad," he answers. "I had to deal with Malfoy, but I also met this nice werewolf. I'm going to go back during the next full moon, see if he comes back. Do you have any pictures of the nargles?"

As she shows him, telling him about Gran and Bornuk's latest exploits, he reaches inside, relieved when he finds the guilt still hasn't returned.


End file.
